


caretaking

by littlemiss_m



Series: Whumptober 2018 [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blind Character, Caretaker Fatigue, Caretaking, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 01:16:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16630115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemiss_m/pseuds/littlemiss_m
Summary: A few months into the endless darkness, Ignis does his best to take care of Prompto, who was rendered broken at Ardyn's hands. It's not like he has anything more important to do, really.





	caretaking

Ignis would hardly call it a morning, both due to the far too early hours and the darkness even he could sense, but nevertheless he still slipped out of the warm cocoon of his bed and made for the second bedroom, where Prompto was supposedly sleeping. Worry and frustration burned at Ignis' head far worse than the headache from a string of too many sleepless nights in a row, but as he felt for the door handle of Prompto's room, he tried his best to push those thoughts aside. It was neither fair nor good to wallow in those kinds of things, not when the world was what it now was.

Once inside Prompto's room, Ignis slowed to a glacial pace. He could hear Prompto breathing deeply, regularly, thankfully still in slumber, but he couldn't tell if the other was still in bed or not, so he moved his feet a fraction of an inch at a time, feeling the floor before him until his knees bumped against the bedframe. More than once, he'd found Prompto sleeping on the floor, too drugged up to realize he'd fallen, but those were still the good nights; on the worse ones, Prompto would huddle in a corner, too terrified to recognize Ignis even with the lights on.

Tonight, though, Ignis found Prompto deep in sleep, just as he'd expected – hoped, prayed, begged – after he'd had to call Cor in to administer the medications. Ignis couldn't make any sense of the jars of pills locked in a box in his bedroom, could only tell that there were too many of them to be used at once, but in this world – where medicine was already hard to come by, where permanence was a thing of the past – they were all they had, and, according to the few therapists still around, better than nothing.

They could only hope.

With a deep, tired sigh, Ignis gently felt around the bed until he found the bulk of Prompto's body resting almost too close to the edge. He made his way around the bed before getting in, pressing the side of his body flush against Prompto's back as he settled down under the blanket. The bed was cold, the residual warmth from Prompto's slumber not reaching Ignis' half of the mattress, and he shivered, his toes curling in displeasure. He'd get two, maybe three more hours of sleep, but already he knew it wouldn't be enough to chase away the tiredness that had permeated his very bones.

Still – this was what Prompto needed, now, constant companionship and far more care than Ignis was capable of offering. Some five, six months later, he still couldn't even begin to understand how Prompto had made it out of the Keep to begin with, couldn't figure out how he'd gone from a bruised mess to an utterly catatonic state, but so it had gone, the three of them walking through Gralea until Prompto began to lag behind, until Prompto stopped, until Ignis and Gladio turned around to find Prompto on his knees in the snow, not speaking, not reacting, acting as if he couldn't even think anymore–

This was progress, Ignis had to remind himself. Months had passed, and despite everything being against them, Prompto had began to heal. He still couldn't function on his own, still needed someone by his side almost fully around the clock, but for a few, precious hours each day, he was nevertheless conscious enough to live. That was more progress than Ignis had thought he'd ever witness after helping Gladio carry Prompto back to civilization.

* * *

When morning came for good, Ignis awoke as soon as Prompto began to shift and grumble. Within seconds, Ignis was on alert, ready to roll out of bed if he so much as caught a hint of Prompto being too out of it to recognize him, but there were no such clues and so he relaxed once more, dropping his body on the bed for the last few moments of blessed comfort. They'd learned very, very early on that Ardyn's tricks had left deeper scars than they had at first assumed. Sometimes – even on an otherwise good day – Prompto would just look up at a person and see someone else in their stead, Ardyn in disguise, and when the number of people whose presence he allowed was already down in the single digits, his lack of trust in his surroundings only served to make things even more difficult for everyone.

They couldn't leave him alone for the very same reason. Since it was Ignis who had the time to spare to stay with him, it had been Ignis who first noticed it; he'd walked into his bedroom to retrieve a thing or another, and when he'd returned to the small living area, he'd heard Prompto's breath hitch in true fear. It was Ignis who had left the room but Ardyn who had returned in his stead.

It helped some if Prompto woke up to Ignis, if Ignis could somehow spend every minute of the day within Prompto's range of vision, but of course – such a thing wasn't possible for anyone, not unless he took Prompto to the bathroom with him, and neither of them were too fond of that idea. Still, in the mornings, Ignis crawled into Prompto's bed to give the other a chance at a good start to the day; sometimes it paid off, sometimes it didn't.

This morning proved one of the better ones. Ignis felt the bed shift as Prompto rolled over to face him, wrinkled his nose as the rank smell of Prompto's morning breath wafted over. ”Morning,” he murmured, propping his head up. ”How are you today, Prompto?”

There was no verbal answer, only a slight squeeze of fingers around his wrist, and Ignis held back a sigh as he prayed for sight to return. Making sense of Prompto's moods had been hard enough back when things were still okay, but now that he was blind and Prompto unwilling to make too many sounds, it was downright impossible sometimes.

”Oh, well, we ought to be getting up, now,” Ignis continued. He sat up and felt for Prompto's shoulder, which he squeezed while fighting to put a smile on his face. ”Will you be okay if I leave you for a moment?”

Another light touch on his arm, a quietly murmured assent. Ignis patted Prompto's shoulder before kicking his feet over the edge of the bed, cringing as soon as he felt the cool floorboards through his loose sleepwear socks. Six months of no sun did that to a world, cooling even the famously sweltering Lestellum streets into something resembling the mellow winters of Insomnia. The days – or the chronological twelve hours they referred to as daytime – were a bit warmer, somehow, despite the equal darkness refusing to shift one way or the another, but the buildings had been designed with a largely different climate in mind and after nights like this, it showed. Ignis hissed when he stepped onto a particularly cold spot, continued to grimace and curse under his breath as he stripped out of the sleep-warm pyjamas and changed into a pair of jeans and his warmest jumper, but after the night, the fabrics were just too cold on his skin to provide instant comfort. From the other room, he could hear the vague sounds of Prompto padding around, the toilet flushing, the pipes grumbling as the bathroom faucet was turned on. Arms huddled around his torso, Ignis made for the small living area.

Prompto entered the room a moment later. ”No warm water today,” he murmured right away; Ignis knew better than to hope, but even so he couldn't hold back the deep sigh rolling out of his lungs. ”I'm, I'm–”

”Did you take your medicines already?” Ignis cut in, hearing the hesitation threatening to slip into something worse. Cor should've left the appropriate in a cup by the bathroom sink when he visited the previous night, but it frustrated Ignis to no end to be unable to check for himself. Prompto's answer was a quiet ”uh-huh” rushing out of his mouth as if he'd been punched in the gut and Ignis smiled, stepping forward until he felt the kitchen countertop under his hand.

”Wonderful. Shall we eat, then? There should be some of yesterday's porridge still in the fridge if you don't mind eating leftovers. Oh, you could slice us an apple, too – we still have a few of those of left, unless I'm mistaken.”

This time, there was no verbal answer but Ignis could make out the sounds of Prompto's sock-clad feet shuffling to the fridge and back, and then the thud of a plastic cutting board being placed on the dining table. The idea of Prompto – who might at any given moment lose his sense of surroundings – holding onto a sharp kitchen knife was one that made Ignis feel more than a little uncomfortable, but with him still trying to get used to his new disability, it was simply one they had to bear. Soon the small kitchen was filled with the sounds of a knife slicing through an apple, and Ignis nodded to himself as he retrieved a plastic bowl from the fridge.

There wasn't much of the porridge left, just enough to fill them both up for another day of inactivity, but in these times, in their new lives, food scarcity was very quickly growing into a serious issue. Forcing himself to think of other things, Ignis stopped weighting the bowl in his hands and pushed it into the microwave instead, twisting the dial the way Gladio had showed him after acquiring the machine. That, at least, was something Ignis could still do without putting himself under danger of losing fingers or scalding his skin.

The steady hum of electricity mixed in with the sounds of Prompto chopping away at the apple, and together they created the perfect white noise for Ignis to get lost into. Not too loud, not too quiet, just monotonous enough to slide in from one ear and out of the other. He didn't notice anything wrong until he heard the knife clatter on the table.

”Prompto?” Ignis asked, just as Prompto himself gasped out his name.

”Iggy–” Prompto sobbed, sounding as if he were the blind man in the room, unable to see despite having Ignis standing right there by his side, ”Iggy, Iggy, Iggy–”

”I'm here, Prompto,” Ignis cut in, holding out one his arms. His heart had already dropped all the way to the bottom of his stomach as he tried to work out whether Prompto had actually hurt himself in some way, or if he had simply spooked himself back into confusion. ”Could you come to me, please? Do you want to?”

He'd barely finished his words before he felt Prompto barrel against his chest, already sobbing loudly. Ignis had to dig his heels down on the floorboards to keep from from sliding backwards, but a moment later, he had his arms first around Prompto's body, then frantically feeling the skin of Prompto's hands for injuries. He felt no wounds, no wetness, nothing to signal a cut or worse. Slowly, the fear that had swiftly permeated through every beat of Ignis' heart relented again, giving way to an exhausted sense of relief.

Somewhere behind him, the microwave beeped. Prompto continued crying.

* * *

The rest of the day was much the same as the ones preceding it. Ignis sat at the dining table trying to make sense of the tiny little dots he needed to learn to read, kept one ear on the door and the other on Prompto. Around noon, Iris showed up with lunch but kept to the hallway outside the apartment, an unwanted visitor ever since Prompto grew lucid enough to feel embarrassment over his flailing mind, and mentioned that Gladio would be returning around dinnertime if things went well. They ate lunch and Ignis returned to his books, Prompto a constant presence on the small seating area.

It was a Rubix cube day today, Ignis was quick to notice, almost annoyed by the cranks and crunches of plastic squares scraping against each other. The small plastic slide puzzles would have been a much more quiet an option, barely making any sounds at all, but – Ignis took a deep breath and tried to let go of his irritation. The little puzzles and trinkets were Prompto's way of staying present, something to tether him to the now without tethering him to reality – a childish, mundane hobby to keep his mind occupied but not overworked. It was a feeling Ignis could sympathize with, these days, when his own world had grown much more narrow than it had ever been before.

They kept to their repetitive businesses until a firm knock echoed through the small apartment, startling Ignis from his studies. He heard Prompto's sharp intake and knew, without a doubt, that if this was Gladio returning from work, then Prompto's reaction would not be one of the best ones, but there was nothing to be done about that so Ignis didn't even try.

The door opened. ”'Sup, boys,” Gladio's voice greeted them. ”Brought some lunch from Monica.”

”I'll get the plates, then,” Ignis replied, getting up from his seat and ignoring Prompto's hitched breaths for now. ”I trust the hunt went well?”

”Yeah, sure, no big deal,” Gladio grunted. Ignis heard the two thuds of heavy boots hitting the floor, then a louder one from a sturdy bag. ”Just took us some time to find the coeurls, but no-one got hurt. More annoying than anything, really.”

Sighing in relief, Ignis pulled three plastic bowls from the cabinets, then three plastic mugs, but once he found the silverware drawer, he hesitated. ”And what shall we be dining on tonight? Whatever it is, it smells divine, but I would rather know whether we require spoons or forks.”

Gladio snorted. ”Some kinda stew,” he replied, and Ignis nodded, digging for spoons. ”Beans and game. Carrots. That sorta stuff. Oh, hey, Chocobutt – I got you a gift. Saw in a store we ransacked and thought you'd like it.”

Ignis bit down on his lip and listened for any sounds Prompto might be making even as he collected their dinnerware and carried it over to the dining table. He could tell from the way Prompto's breath was hitching that the blond was nervous, scared even, but he wasn't crying or openly panicking – not until after Gladio had passed him, anyway. When quiet, heartbroken sobs began to fill the room anew, Ignis sighed in frustration, tempted to elbow Gladio the second he felt the other's warmth by his side.

He didn't. ”What was it?” he murmured under his breath instead.

”A chocobo plushie,” Gladio answered quietly, his voice almost drowning under Prompto's cries, ”a big one, like the one he had back home.”

Sucking in his lips, Ignis allowed himself to lean against Gladio. He couldn't tell the exact reason for Prompto's tears, but he sounded more upset or embarrassed than outright scared, which was a distinction they were slowly learning to live with. Perhaps Prompto was crying for the home he'd lost, or maybe he was simply humiliated over finding comfort in a child's toy – whatever it was, Ignis didn't know. He was also weary to the bone and finally in his boyfriend's arms after a week spent apart, and so he didn't feel too much shame in turning around to kiss Gladio even while Prompto kept on weeping a scarce few feet away from them.

* * *

Later that night, the kisses continued in bed, Ignis on his back and Gladio so close to his side he was almost covering Ignis with his body. After a brief shower, Gladio smelled faintly of the flowery bodywash, his body large and warm next to Ignis – but even after days of no contact and nights of entertaining thoughts of more, Ignis found himself too tired to retaliate.

”Igs?” Gladio murmured, his voice a hot puff against Ignis' ear, and Ignis wanted so badly to get his hands on the body he knew so intimately, yet – he simply lacked the energy for it.

”Tired,” Ignis grunted, shifting closer to Gladio's warmth. A small kiss on the hinge of his jaw had him sighing. ”Gods, Gladio, I'm so tired.”

With a soft hum, Gladio drew back a fraction. ”I'm so sorry, babe,” he whispered, a calloused finger coming to brush at Ignis' bangs. ”I wish–”

”No,” Ignis cut in, forcing himself to stop Gladio before he could venture to deep into dreamlands. In this new world, there was no space for wishes and hopes, only a stagnating endurance, and to dream was a privilage Ignis couldn't afford himself. ”No, just – get down here, please, Gladio–”

So tired he felt ready to cry, Ignis found himself craving both sleep and Gladio's touch, unable to decide between the two. Gladio huffed – the way he always did before smiling softly, slowly, in the way Ignis had loved but would never witness again – and lowered his upper body down against Ignis', his mouth soon trailing small kisses up and down Ignis' jaw and neckline.

”Go to sleep, Igs,” Gladio murmured, ”I'll still be here in the morning, I promise.”

Ignis laughed, almost hysterical, and tilted his head in a silent plea for more kisses. ”Yes, but I won't be,” he said, already thinking of the next day and all the help Prompto might need, ”and – by the Six, Gladio, I don't know what to do anymore–”

”Shh,” Gladio hushed him, dropping down on the bed to wrap a heavy arm across Ignis' heaving chest. ”It's gonna be okay, Iggy–”

”No it won't!” Ignis replied, almost shouting the words before remembering Prompto sleeping in the next room, Prompto who probably wouldn't take well to them arguing. ”No, I – Cor's been hounding me about setting a temporary government, now that things are settling down, but–”

”We can talk about this in the morning, love,” Gladio still continued to resist, voice low and smooth, almost a lullaby without the music. ”Let's just sleep for now, okay?” He trailed another set of kisses down Ignis' jaw but Ignis couldn't take it, couldn't possibly go to sleep with his mind spinning fast enough to cut, and he held onto Gladio's arm with both hands as he tried to roll sideways in an attempt to face his lover even he couldn't see him.

”No, Gladio, I need to – I can't do this anymore, I don't have the time to take care of Prompto and the world both, but there's no-one else to do either of those things if I don't – I can't be in two places at once, Gladio, but that's what everyone expects of me!”

With the remnants of the world slowly but surely finding their places in the darkness, urgency had started to give way to more permanent needs. They were slowly reaching the point where a governing body of _some_ kind was swiftly becoming a necessity, and as much Ignis burned to get started on that – as much as ne needed to prepare the world for Noctis' return – he knew he couldn't just leave Prompto on his own, either. At the same time, things were getting dire enough that soon, the choice would no longer be his to make.

”Ignis–” Gladio murmured, still kissing at Ignis' scarred cheek even as calloused fingers threaded through short, bed-toussled hair.

”I can't give him away, too, Gladio,” Ignis pleaded. ”I – I already lost Noctis, I don't know what I'll do if I lose Prompto as–”

”It won't get to that, love,” Gladio cut in, his voice now firmer despite the hushed tones. Ignis sniffled, huffed a laugh, leaned into the palm resting on the side of his face. ”I promise you, Ignis. I swear on my honor as Noct's Shield that I won't let Prompto fall down. I'm not gonna lie, I don't know how on Eos we're supposed to be able to pull through this shitstorm – but I promise you, Ignis, that when Noctis returns to walk with us once more, all three of us will be right there by his side. We'll get Prompto back on his feet, I swear.”

Ignis laughed, his entire body curling under the blanket as despair tore free from his lungs. _We'll fix him up alright_ , he wanted to say, _and then he can watch Noctis die for good_ – but he didn't. He kept his mouth shut, unsure whether Gladio knew of the true prophecy or not, unwilling the shake the already broken world any further. Out of the three men still remaining on Eos, Gladio was the one who stood tallest, whose front was the most solid, who still had something to offer to what was left of mankind – Ignis couldn't risk reducing him to the broken shells he and Prompto were.

Gladio still had hope.

The laughter died into a quiet sob or two, a lone tear rolling down Ignis' unmarred cheek. A rough thumb wiped it away, a bearded chin pressed a kiss in its place; Ignis smiled through his grief, through the hopelessness of all, and scooted as close to Gladio as possible.

* * *

He felt like he'd slept for mere seconds when the faint echo of someone's cries reached his ears. The weeks Ignis had spent watching over Prompto had prepared him for these nightly wakings, yes, but the darkness and the exhaustion both still made it difficult for him to integrate back to the world of the living. Slowly, Ignis rolled over to his back, feeling around the bed while blinking the crust from his better eye. Gladio was gone, already, his side of the bed clearly cooler than the toasty cocoon around Ignis' body.

Another night terror, then. Ignis felt a hundred years older as he melted back into the bed.

Teeth gnawing against his bottom lip, Ignis listened. The cries quieted and were replaced by the hush of water, the pat-pat-pat of the ancient showerhead, the banging of the pipes coming to life. Though his daily life was best described as a never-ending source of anxiety, enough of an analysist still remained in Ignis that he could place faith in his logic, in his ability to understand his surroundings, or so he tried to tell himself. Gladio was more than capable of taking care of Prompto, though Prompto might not accept his help, might assume him someone other than their gentle friend, yet – if there was something wrong, Prompto would not remain so quiet. He'd scream and cry, stomp his feet and bang his arms on whatever was around him in an attempt to escape, to make enough noise to bring in help – Ignis had witnessed it, more than once.

This was not a scene like that, yet Ignis still worried.

It took less than five minutes before the water turned off. Thin as the walls were, they were still sturdy enough to block out most footfalls, and no matter how Ignis strained his ears, he couldn't hear anything more until the bedroom door pushed open. He knew without seeing, without hearing, that Gladio was bringing Prompto to bed with him – had known from the second he'd first heard the shower turn on.

A weary, bitter sigh swelled in Ignis' lungs. He refused to let it out.

”Is that you, Gladio?” he asked instead, sitting up slightly. ”I was wondering where my space heater had run off to.”

His attempt at snark was mostly for Prompto's sake, though however he reacted – or if he reacted at all – Ignis couldn't tell. Gladio chuckled shortly, his steps light shuffles on the ground, and then the blankets were being pulled back. ”Prom's gonna sleep with us tonight,” he said, offering no explanation – not that Ignis needed one. The development was recent enough that he was surprised Gladio had heard of it, that he'd known what to do or how to act, but the Prompto currently in the room with them was the quiet and calm one, and so Ignis decided he didn't even care.

”Well, get in, then, both of you,” Ignis ordered almost snappishly, holding up the blanket even as he inched backwards to the very edge of the bed. The mattress shifted as Prompto crawled in, slight, wobbly shake that reverbated through the old springs. Prompto settled as close to Ignis as possible, so low in the bed he must have been almost entirely underneath the blanket. A moment later, cold hands clasped around Ignis' arm, tentative but not trembling, and then – a mouth so close to his bicep it might have been meant as a kiss if it were anyone else, but from Prompto – from Prompto, it was an apology. A thank-you. All the emotions rolled into one mess none of them could even pretend to interpret.

As Gladio got into the bed, the three of them still continued to shift, their bodies inching this way and that in search of the perfect spot. At some point, Ignis could feel the plastic crinkle of an adult diaper behind two layers of flannel, and heartbroken as it still made him feel, there was nothing he could – should, would – say or do about it. Prompto already felt the embarrassment; he needed no more shame on his frail shoulders.

With a weary, bone-exhausted sigh, Ignis snuggled down into the corner of the pillow he now shared with Prompto. A fluff of soft hare ticked at the bottom of his chin and he rolled over just so, curling an arm in the thin gap between Prompto and Gladio, his knuckles resting against his boyfriend's chest while his fingers brushed the back of Prompto's shirt. As soon as he was gone, Gladio moved in turn, sneaking his arm forward until it rested heavy and warm over the soft stretch of skin between Ignis' ribs and hips, holding onto him despite the distance between their bodies.

”Good night,” Ignis murmured, a small smile tugging at the very corners of his lips. Gladio returned his wishes with a sleepy grunt, already half-gone, and a moment later, Prompto followed suit with a breathy sigh.

It wouldn't be long till morning came for good, a few hours at most; but if anything, Ignis was used to iron-bending pressure on his shoulders, an endless list of tasks being pushed into his hands before he was done with the first one. There was no denying the ugly truths of their new world, no avoiding the rush of anxiety in Ignis' veins that followed every single thought related to the matter, but at his core, Ignis was a man used to compartmentalizing.

With one last shift of his shoulders and hips, Ignis snuggled closer to Prompto and went to sleep.


End file.
